


Shore Leave Surprise

by Akaiba



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom McCoy, Established Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pheromones, Possessive Spock, Riding, Top Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaiba/pseuds/Akaiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elsian asked for: "well um, it'd be awesome to have mccoy riding spock, but spocks completely in charge because he's being all possessive where someones been macking on bones."</p><p>Leonard has an unwelcome encounter with an Orion couple at the bar and Spock does not like the way their hands were all over Leonard at all. </p><p>And it got away from me a little but it's all hopefully there. :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elsian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsian/gifts).



> It's taken me ages to write this but mostly I feel I should apologise because I haven't proof read it yet. Elsian's been so good waiting I didn't want to make her wait longer. XD So all mistakes are my own! Sorry about that!

The shore leave destination hadn't been one McCoy was particularly interested in visiting but between Kirk and Spock he hadn't really had the option of just staying on the ship. They were certain he'd just keep working, which was correct but McCoy couldn't really see a better a use of his time. He'd rather finish off his reports and indulge in a quiet drink in his office than head to the bar on this space station in the arse end of nowhere, fairly certain every patron has dubious loyalty to the federation while Kirk gets plastered and it's left to Spock and McCoy to get him back on the Enterprise without starting a galactic war. 

“Come on, Bones, meet you at the transporter in five.” And that was apparently the end of the discussion, no matter how McCoy complained and outright refused. 

Spock was already in their shared quarters and looked up as McCoy entered with a thunderous expression. Spock was not warned off and simply asked, “I am to understand that Jim has invited you to the bar this evening as well?” 

McCoy's mostly cursed filled reply was affirmative and Spock rose to follow him into their bedroom. “...- gotta dress not like federation, gonna get us all killed- I mean really, man, this station? We could have made it to any other quadrant and gone to anywhere else but no~o, Spock, not an option. Gotta be here, and why?” Spock was more than wise to McCoy's rants now and did not offer a reply. “Because Jim's an idiot, that's why.”

Spock didn't think it wise to comment, though he agreed with McCoy's sentiments. He'd much rather spend his evening with McCoy in their quarters but Jim had been nothing but supportive of his and McCoy's relationship and they were keen to make sure Kirk did not feel isolated from them. They both valued his friendship after all.

“We have been given a week of shore leave. There will be other evenings to spend as we wish. Tonight, I believe it fair that we spend it engaging in a recreational activity that Jim may enjoy also.” 

Spock turned to leave their bedroom and McCoy snorted a laugh. “Did you just make a dirty joke?” Spock didn't answer but the almost unnoticeable quirk of the vulcan's mouth was not missed by the ship's doctor. 

Feeling a little calmer McCoy had to agree with Spock. It was only fair that they went to the bar with Kirk. He was hardly the way he used to be in terms of drinking and bar brawling, even a little more discerning about the women he brought back, and a drink out with his lover and closest friend didn't seem so bad when Spock put it like that. McCoy still felt entitled to be grumpy about it though, grumbling his way through a shower and dressing in slacks and whatever shirt came out of the wardrobe first. It wasn't like he had to try for anyone; he had Spock. He grumbled to himself and added to his thoughts that having Spock didn't matter, he was a grown man and he wasn't dolling himself up for anyone. 

He met Kirk and Spock at the transporter, surly expression still in place to which it only grew sterner as Jim clapped his shoulder jovially. 

“Come on, Bones, no need to start the night like that.” Kirk ignored Bones as the doctor seemed about to tell Kirk just where to go. “Scotty, Uhura, Sulu and Chekov have got a head start on us, I had to stick around to make sure you two would actually come! Oh, wait, I mean, go down- oh, crap, um-”

Spock's eyebrow couldn't get further up his face if he tried and Bones was in no mood to enjoy watching Kirk trip over accidental euphemisms to do with his two friends' relationship. “Jim. Get on the transporter pad before I put you down for so many invasive medical tests you'll cry whenever I get my hypo out.” 

Kirk didn't need to be told twice and by the time all three of them had beamed down to the station- because docking and just walking over was too difficult with the repairs to some of the engine parts, oh no, Kirk just had to add another level of discomfort to this- Kirk was back to his usual self, foot apparently worked free of his mouth and eagerly leading them from the transporter bay to the elevators. Spock's fingers brushed McCoy's and the doctor felt himself relax a little. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with Kirk, Spock was right after all, they owed it to Kirk to do some things with him that he liked. It was just that all Kirk's favourite things involved alcohol, loose women and doing things he shouldn't- especially things that Spock and McCoy told him expressly not to. 

The bar was exactly how McCoy expected it to be. They aren't in federation space and there's every kind of species filling the place up, friendly and unfriendly faces alike but McCoy doesn't sense any threats to them. Just general disgruntled patrons at having federation in their bar which they could handle so long as Kirk didn't... anything. So long as he didn't, just didn't. 

“Hey, Bones, she reckons she can make you a mint julep!” Kirk grinned, already leaning over the bar and chatting companionably with one of the bartenders. She looked human but the black of her irises gave her away and Bones accepted his drink with a smile before skirting away with Spock, carting Kirk with them, so that they could find the others. As a rule McCoy stayed away from telepaths and what little he knew about Betazoids made him more uncomfortable than Spock's touch-telepathy thing. At least Spock tended to avoid physical contact, unless they were in private. 

Scotty greeted them from the table the rest of them had snagged in the back. Scotty looked flushed and well on his way to being merry already. Uhura kept moving his glass away to limit him a little and her greeting was far less loud. McCoy took a sip of his drink and wrinkled his nose. The bartender didn't have mint leaf and whatever she'd added was probably as similar as this place had but it made the drink have an after taste a little like toothpaste. Still, it was likely as good as he would get this far from Earth. 

It took McCoy a few more of the sub-par fake mint juleps but he found himself enjoying himself. He laughed along with Scotty and Kirk's stupid jokes, even tried to teach Chekov and Sulu the rowdy chant they sang to encourage the younger ones to drink more. Other crew members from the Enterprise came over, some stayed, some left and mostly the other patrons left them alone to their own devices. 

“Come on, Spock, live a little!” Kirk complained, drawing McCoy's thoughts to a close as he looked over curiously where his lover and best friend were sat at the table. 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am living quite satisfactorily, thank you, Jim.” 

Kirk made a disgruntled, frustrated noise that mused McCoy and had him grinning at Spock's deliberate attempts to wind the captain up. “You're not even drinking! There's gotta be something you wanna have?”

Spock inclined his head. “I am enjoying my tea.”

“Maybe I could get you some... chocolate?” 

McCoy flushed hotly under his collar, remembering how that particular accident had played out as Spock's eyes narrowed on Kirk warningly. “The tea is more than sufficient.” 

“Alright, alright.” Kirk waved his hands like he was brushing away the conversation. “No point getting your panties in a twist.” Spock's nose crinkled at the expression and McCoy laughed again, feeling the affects of whatever passed for bourbon in his fake mint juleps. “Come on, Bones, lets get the next round.” Kirk clapped Spock on the shoulder and grinned at the dark look, or vulcan equivalent, he received for his trouble. McCoy winked at Spock, feeling pretty relaxed despite his previous reservations. 

He and Kirk took orders for drinks and headed back to the bar, smiling a little at the way Kirk kept knocking elbows and shoulders with him. Kirk was a tactile creature and reassuring touches, firm grips of hands and wrists, calming hands on shoulders, jovial slaps on backs and such- all of it was like reinforcing the world around Kirk. McCoy learned early on that Kirk needed that, only really literally reaching out to those he cared about and McCoy never begrudged the contact. It was kind of nice. 

The bar had filled up since they'd entered and there was a crowd to the bar that meant they had to wait and squeeze their way in to reach the bar and order. McCoy found himself sandwiched between Kirk and an Orion couple who had little understanding of personal space and McCoy did his best to ignore them even as the woman tried to catch his attention. 

“I gotta ask-” Kirk said as the bartender, not the Betazoid, started making their drinks.

“No, you really don't, Jim.” McCoy said firmly, because there was nowhere good that these conversations went when Kirk opened with those words.

“No, really, you're happy, right? With Spock, I mean.” 

McCoy frowned and gave him a strange look. “What do you mean? We're... dating, or whatever you wanna call it, right?” 

“I didn't mean... I wasn't really asking, I guess.” Kirk shrugged and grinned at him. “I've never seen you this happy. It's very cute, Bones.” 

McCoy's scowl deepened and he rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Jim.”

“No, no, I'm happy for you. Both of you.” Kirk continued to grin like it was some big joke. 

“I will make your life unpleasant.”

Kirk laughed and leaned into McCoy's side as the bartender came back with some of their drinks. He was still making McCoy's and Sulu's so Kirk took the tray of his, Scotty's, Uhura's, Chekov's and Keenser's. 

“I'll grab the rest.” McCoy said by way of dismissal as Kirk carefully manoeuvred the tray over the heads of the crowd around the bar. The moment Kirk disappears through the crush of bodies, a hand closes on McCoy's wrist which her jerks free hard. Turning to see the owner of the hand he sees both the Orion male and female watching him. Her gaze is analytical, sizing him up and down, while the male seems pretty ambivalent. “Can I help you?” He knows about Orion physiology in theory, knows their species through his text books but hasn't really met one of them before, let alone two, and as a rule when representing Starfleet it pays to be polite. 

“I'm rather hoping you can.” The female said, voice low and a smirk curling about her mouth. “I'm Reena. This is Thalva.” Thalva towered a little over McCoy, practically pressed against his side with the crush of the bar. He was bald, as most Orion males were, and broader than a brick wall which had McCoy once again reminding himself polite was the best way to go. If it came down to fighting, he wasn't going to last long. Reena was still studying McCoy like he was a slab of meat, dark eyes narrowed a little and curling fountain of black hair spilling over her shoulders, over her barely concealed cleavage, as she leaned more into Thalva's side. Thalva's hand came up to curl around her waist but neither of them look away from McCoy. Slowly, McCoy realised he could smell something sweet. Bitter sweet, like a crisp apple and it teased at his nose until he found himself leaning in a little. He shook his head and tried to pull back but all he managed was to stop himself from going any further forwards. 

“Leonard.” He grunted, feeling a fog like pull on his mind, like he was inhaling some sort of drug and it's right then he remembered... something. The second the thought occured, it faded and he realised Reena's hand was back around his wrist. They seemed utterly at ease with the mass of bodies around them, pushing and sliding against them. It wasn't sexual but suddenly it felt like it was. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Reena breathed, mouth curling around every word like she was whispering sweet nothings to him. “Thalva's been interested in satisfying a particular fantasy of mine...” Each word filtered through slowly, like McCoy had to wait for his brain to recognise sound and order it into something understandable. 

“That's nice, I-I, ugh...” McCoy shuddered as something tugged at him, like a pull of something as he breathed in and it pulled around his neck. This invisible urge pulling him in as he struggled to disobey. Reena's hand tugged on his wrist and he found himself pressed against Thalva's side across from Reena. Thalva's other hand came up to curl around McCoy's waist in a similar fashion. McCoy felt warm, pressed against an immovable bulk of muscle but when he looked up the eyes weren't right, there was too much green, not the faint tinge when McCoy managed to get under Spock's skin, it wasn't... it wasn't Spock. 

McCoy pushed at Thalva's chest, more bared skin like the Orion's didn't want to break stereotype, and tried to get free. Reena chuckled. “Oh, you're strong. I like that.” Her fingers reached over to trace along his jaw and it made McCoy struggle again. “Don't fight it, sweet child.” The noise of the music, pressed in around them, uncaring, ignoring people that just glanced right over the three of them.

“S-Spock...” He grunted, unsure if he was reminding himself, calling out or both. 

“Who's that, hm? Friend, lover, ex-lover? Someone you lust for?” Reena asked gently. “Thalva and I, we can chase away all of that.” Her hand cupped the back of his head and drew him in tight, tilting his head towards Thalva and urging him on. 

Reena's hand in McCoy's hair suddenly disappeared and McCoy sagged back with relief, Thalva's tree-trunk sized arm the only thing keeping him up as someone slid behind McCoy and shoved Reena's hand back at her. The heat at his back is like a furnace and much more familiar, McCoy leaning towards it like a moth to a flame as he breathed, “Spock” with gratitude this time. 

“Remove your hands from him.” Spock's hands were already closing around McCoy's shoulders and pulling him from Thalva's grasp and closer to that welcome heat that McCoy craved, that hard press of muscle so much better than Thalva's because McCoy had traced it with his mouth, knew it better than his own. His thoughts seemed to circle sex and sensuality, pushing at him, making his body hot and flushed- desperate for something. Spock was speaking, all rage and anger that McCoy could recognise now but that wasn't what he wanted. Spock was angry at the Orion couple when he should be focused on McCoy. He wanted Spock to pay attention, tugging Spock's arm around him to hold tighter as he leaned back fully into Spock's arms. 

There was movement. The bar lurched. No, they were moving. Spock was moving him, rather. Everything swam but the only thing that stayed in sharp relief was the contact on his body. The moment they got outside of the bar, got a breath of clean, cool, recycled air, McCoy felt himself sag again. This time like he'd just run a marathon, his vision clearing a little. 

“Spock?” He asked, voice croaky and raw as he tried to turn and face his lover. On anyone else, it probably looked like pinched irritation. On Spock, however, he looked livid and McCoy had years of experience to know the difference. “Spock, I don't feel... right...” He tried to get Spock's focus back on him, rather than the murderous looks he was throwing back into the bar. 

“No I expect you do not. You have been drugged on Orion female pheromones- accelerated ones. I believe she is using a drug to enhance her effect.” Spock's hands were tight on McCoy's arms, belying the calm of his words and McCoy let that ground him. 

“Get me back... the ship... now.” McCoy gritted out, feeling his body still stirring as if Reena were right there, fingers curling over his skin. He felt both hot and aroused as well as sick and unclean, like something was overriding his mind and turning his body against him. It made him want to claw off his skin and rub up against a warm body. That he didn't seem to have a say in whose warm body it was made him reel and clutch tighter onto Spock. “Now!” He repeated, shocking Spock into movement. 

Spock turned from what looked like an internal debate between focusing on McCoy or marching back into the bar and breaking a few faces. McCoy having made the decision for Spock was gratified when the vulcan threw McCoy's arm over his shoulders and helped him walk hurriedly back to the lifts. 

McCoy didn't think the journey down to the bar had taken this long but no one stopped them, assuming Spock was just taking care of a drunk friend. McCoy wished he was drunk. He felt like that bad kind of drunk, the kind where you ween't on a buzz, you were sad when you started drinking and you drank to make it stop but it only pushed you further back into your head and your mess and you can't get out. McCoy had been there before, that low and the hell that came with the drinking it away. Numbed your body and your mind down to base thoughts but there was still pain and no amount of alcohol shifted it even as you kept drinking or turned to a warm, willing body to lose yourself within instead. But McCoy knew that pain and it was like that but so much worse. Like the only thing that would bring relief was a warm body even as McCoy knew that desire wasn't his own. 

McCoy blinked and the next he knew he was being hauled off the transporter pad on the Enterprise once more. “S-Spock...?” McCoy slurred.

“You are conscious once again. Please attempt to remain so.” Spock said briskly. 

McCoy shifted as he realised he was moving but he wasn't moving his legs. He blinked and focused on Spock. On his chest. On the heat radiating from it along his body and the arms curled under his back and legs. Spock was carrying him. “Put me down...” He demanded, ignoring the way his words mixed into one garbled jumble of syllables. 

“No.”

That was it. No explanation, no logical reasoning, no concerns veiled under sarcasm; just 'no'. Apparently Spock wasn't inclined to discuss the situation further and while McCoy would the world shifted and he practically swallowed his tongue in an effort to not make a pathetic noise. 

McCoy still fought Spock every step of the way when they made it back to their quarters. He pushed away Spock's hands as the vulcan tried to examine him, annoyed with the way his body ached for each touch and refusing to give in to it. He kicked weakly at Spock's attempts to undress him and when Spock managed it, he fought harder against the pyjamas the vulcan tried to get on him. McCoy knew that what he was doing wasn't helpful, but he didn't want to be helpful. He wanted full control of his faculties again, he didn't want thoughts that weren't his own, urges that weren't his own and he really didn't want people touching him. Spock gave up and then just fixed McCoy with a very bland look that roughly translated as 'you are being insufferable but I'm not punching you in the face because I love you' before three fingers were pressed to McCoy's face. Before he could even attempt to coordinate an angry swipe of his arm Spock put the doctor to sleep. It was then much easier to dress him and tuck him into bed. 

McCoy's dreams were fevered and carnal, but in a very unpleasant way. He couldn't forget Reena's hands on him, the way it felt to be pressed to Thalva's side, the press of Spock's chest against his back, flashes of darker things, of what might of happened- all of it with the overwhelming fear that he had had no control whatsoever over any of it. He woke with a jolt, scrambling forwards and heaving air before his eyes were even open. He got no more than four inches on the bed before he realised where he was and sagged with relief. McCoy buried his face in his hands and took deep, shuddering breaths as he shakily tried to put himself back together again. 

“Leonard?”

McCoy tensed and then relaxed as he heard Spock enter their sleeping quarters, door swishing open and letting the vulcan enter without any more sound than the door. But sure enough when McCoy lifted his head, Spock was there at the edge of the bed, hands respectfully distant but gaze concerned and assessing as it swept over him. 

Spock stood slowly when McCoy made no move to speak and fetched him a glass of cold water. He handed it over without a word and McCoy downed the entire glass before he opened his eyes again. 

“Are you...?” Spock tried.

“No.” McCoy replied honestly. Because he wasn't fine, which is what he knew Spock was going to ask. He just didn't really understand why. 

Spock nodded. “Understandable.” And even as short as the was, the way Spock just accepted McCoy's emotional state like it wasn't so terribly difficult for him to handle made McCoy want to throw things. It was touching and kind and he didn't want that, he wanted answers and he wanted... Spock carefully removed the glass from McCoy's hands as if he was reading his mind but their skin never touched once. Spock was skilled like that. 

“I don't know why I'm acting so...” McCoy shrugged, trying to roll it all off like he didn't feel ten different kinds of crap and was still reelling from whatever had happened last night. “Victimised. It's not like anything happened.” McCoy spat out bitterly as he tucked himself a little tighter into the sheets, legs bent and up in front of him. 

Spock frowned at him, not moving any closer and god dammit, McCoy wasn't in some delicate state- he wasn't! Except he was, he felt raw and cold like he had the worlds worst hangover when he hasn't drank nearly enough for that. Spock seemed to choose his words carefully, and rather than addressing what McCoy had said he began, “I believe the Orion female was using a drug to enhance her influences.” McCoy vaguely remembered Spock coming to that conclusion before, however long ago that was, and it made sense. There was no way she should have had that much power with just a few pheromones- especially with the standard training to combat usual Orion female influence. It hadn't been the gentle, soothing guiding that McCoy had been trained to watch out for, her temptations had been like a battering ram through his mind, dragging him to her will even as he'd fought against them. He'd been aware the entire time that something was wrong, it hadn't been what he wanted, and McCoy supposed his body was still rejecting the pheromones if his shaking was anything to go by. 

Medical knowledge, be pragmatic. 

Spock took his silence as a signal to leave and McCoy's hand wrapped around the vulcan's wrist before either of them had realised what happened. “Don't.”

“Leonard?”

“Don't leave me. Not right now.” 

Spock nodded slowly and sat back down on the edge of the bed. He bent down to remove his boots and folded his blue overshirt before McCoy had had enough and just pulled him into the bed. Spock was really warm, as he ever was, and McCoy curled into that heat. It was nothing like the touch of Thalva and Reena. It was calming and safe and McCoy steadied himself by pressing his hand to Spock's abdomen, right against his heart and counted out the beats he knew from his textbooks, knew from caring for Spock, knew just from lying like this and counting them out. 

“I knew it was wrong.” McCoy said, after a long silence in which they both knew the other wasn't sleeping or even remotely close to trying to.

“That what was wrong?”

“What she was doing, what she was making me feel.” McCoy sighed and shook his head. “I could feel it, clawing at my mind and making me feel things that weren't mine.”

Spock's hand tightened just a fraction on his shoulder and McCoy, oddly, found that reassuring. He had imagination enough to figure what might have happened if Spock hadn't found him when he had, the little possessive show, that tiny slip of the totally emotionless vulcan facade, it was enough to remind McCoy that was what he'd fought against her for. Because he was taken, McCoy had someone who he wanted to share those things with and it wasn't some self-entitled Orion female and her male slave. 

“I imagine the sensation was unpleasant.” Spock said, tone purposefully mild and it was so forced and crafted that McCoy actually looked up at the vulcan. McCoy saw the tight, dark lines that marred Spock's face, all the little tiny things that gave the vulcan away because McCoy knew to look, the down turned corners of Spock's mouth, thin pursed lips and fractionally narrowed eyes- it was always his eyes that gave him away the most. McCoy turned onto his side, pressed against Spock as he wrapped an arm around Spock's stomach and levered himself up to look at Spock more easily. 

“I'm okay, Spock.”

“You very nearly were not.”

“Well, not 'very nearly'...”

“It was not a safe nor protected situation.” Spock snapped back before sighing. McCoy very deliberately did not point out the visibly human habit because if Spock couldn't be human around him then where could he? Instead, McCoy leaned a little further over Spock until he was half splayed over him. 

“I'm okay now, Spock.” 

Spock's eyes opened, little slivers of brown almost entirely lost to the black of his pupils, and McCoy let the tetchy vulcan search his face for whatever reassurance it was he needed. Whatever Spock found it appeared to be enough as he sighed again, hands going around McCoy's waist and tightening there, holding him in place and his face softened just a little, just enough tension bleeding out of him that McCoy found he actually believed what he just said. He was okay, he was with Spock and whatever that Orion had done to him was out of his system. The thoughts in his head were his own, no primitive urges being pushed to the fore that definitely weren't his to control. McCoy smirked a little as he leaned in and kissed Spock, a soft brush of their mouths at first, before he pulled back. 

That confirmed it, all his baser urges were definitely his own. Spock's hands pulled him back in, unwilling to let the doctor get very far, and McCoy grunted into a harder kiss, mouth opening at Spock's insistence as it appeared the vulcan was in no mood for teasing and soft touches. A warm, soft palm cupped his neck and pushed through his short hair, nails scratching deliciously along McCoy's scalp as a too hot tongue pushed past his teeth and slid against his own. The doctor made a soft noise before Spock hauled him to rest on his chest, legs resting either side of Spock's as one hand carded through his hair, tilting his head back to give Spock more room to ravage his mouth as McCoy held on tightly. The other hand was snaking down McCoy's back, skimming over where McCoy's shirt had pulled up and the other pushed at the band of McCoy's pyjama pants. McCoy tried to pull back and ask Spock what the rush was for but he didn't get to do much more than gasp for breath before Spock tugged him back, nipping at his lower lip in reprimand. McCoy made a protesting noise as Spock kissed him harder, shoving at the vulcan's chest and Spock relented, barely an inch of space, and by the look on his face he gave it very begrudgingly. 

“What is with you?” McCoy demanded, batting Spock's hand in his pyjama pants but Spock only stilled his rough palming of McCoy's rear and did not remove his hand. McCoy rolled his eyes. 

“There is nothing 'with' me in the sense you mean. I am simply enjoying being with you.”

McCoy scoffed. “From you, that's downright poetic and like ten different levels of insanely romantic.” Spock had apparently had enough of McCoy talking and hauled him down for another kiss which McCoy protested between obscene smacks of their lips. “S-Spock-!” He groaned as Spock actually sucked on his tongue, like he was going to shut him up by any means available. “There is defin-ahh!” McCoy groaned again as Spock started kneading the flesh of his rear again, sealing their mouths together and tracing every inch of McCoy's mouth was his tongue as if marking it. 

“I can still see you pressed against him. Her hands on you.” Spock hissed between kisses. 

“Wait, that's-” McCoy rolled his eyes as Spock kissed him again. He pulled back, pushing against Spock's chest to hold himself up and stared incredulously down at the vulcan. “You're... jealous.” Spock's hand tightened on his rear, the heat from his palm warming the manhandled flesh. “And possessive.”

Spock glared up but there was a definite stubborn validation to McCoy's assessment. “I did not care for her presumption to take your affections without your consent.”

McCoy grinned. “Because my affections belong to you, right?”

“No. Your affections are yours to give to whoever you-” McCoy kissed Spock, softer but their lips were rubbed raw from kissing and it silenced Spock with a soft sound anyway. 

“Admit it.”

“Then yes.”

McCoy grinned wider. “Full sentence please, Spock.”

Spock grumbled. “Your affections are mine.”

“You possessive pointy-eared bastard.” McCoy couldn't be grinning wider if he tried. 

“My affections are only yours.”

“Yeah, Spock, I think that's kind of expected in a committed relationship.” McCoy lowered himself to rest on Spock's chest, hands braced on the vulcan's shoulders. He started a little as Spock's hand joined the other, both resting under his sleeping pants on the flesh of his rear. Not doing anything, just resting there and letting the heat of Spock's hands bleed through into his skin. “I suppose a little possessive behaviour is to be expected...” McCoy remarked idly, raising an amused eyebrow at the firm grip on his backside that the vulcan seemed disinclined to let go of. “A little.” McCoy emphasised before he kissed Spock again, softer this time because of how kiss raw their mouths were. Spock hadn't exactly been gentle before, not that McCoy was complaining too much. 

“Are you-” Spock broke apart to say. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm good.” McCoy cut him off, not wanting a touchy-feely chat when things were getting heated. 

Spock used his hands, already tucked under the waistband, to push the loose pants down under the swell of McCoy's rear. One hand left, McCoy watched it pull open the bedside drawer and take out the small, half empty tube that McCoy shivered at seeing. When Spock's hand returned, his fingers were slick and the pop of the lube cap had McCoy shivering and arching into the grasp. Two hands gripped him tight, spread him wide and McCoy's knees came under him to push himself wider, eager for the touch even if he wouldn't ask for it. 

But Spock wasn't that kind of a lover. He didn't torment, not cruelly, didn't aim to make McCoy beg. He teased, certainly, but always knew when it was enough, always more focused on their shared pleasure than feeding some sort of masculine ego. McCoy reasoned that that was probably the only reason he was so settled with their relationship. He wasn't exactly the young man he once was but Spock looked at him with such piercing clarity, like he saw more than McCoy wanted him to, and he found himself not hesitating like he thought he might. It had been a long time since McCoy hesitated around Spock, and feeling the vulcan's hands on him now chased away the memory of colder hands he hadn't been able to push away, despite how he'd wanted to. 

A warm, slick finger traced down between his exposed skin and McCoy shivered. It wasn't cold, but the touch was anticipated and even just the pressure against his hole was enough to have him respond. He moved his hands over Spock's chest, frustrated as he tugged at the shirt between them. He groaned as Spock leaned up and nipped along his collarbone, too hot tongue tracing each red mark and leaving McCoy gasping. Distracted, Spock chose the moment to press the tip of one finger in. McCoy made a noise, not unused to the action or stretch but eager for more that Spock was not giving. Not yet. 

Spock's mouth was back on his, softer, more gentle as their kiss bruised lips slid together and that one finger slipped in all the way. It rocked into him steadily and the pants tight under the swell of his rear, keeping his thighs from spreading further apart, were driving McCoy to distraction. Every move he made to push at them Spock grumbled at because it shifted the ease with which he could slide another finger into the doctor. One hand held him apart, the other worked him open and McCoy could do little more than lay spread out on Spock's chest as the vulcan handled him; firm but careful. McCoy gripped at Spock's shirt, steady surgeon's hands faltering at the expert way the vulcan just took him apart. Two fingers became three and McCoy found himself rocking back onto the spear of three fingers pushing into him. His bared cock ground down against Spock's and the hand still clutching his rear tightened. Then it loosened and pushed under the hem of McCoy's vest. Hot fingers splayed so that the palm could press against shifting stomach muscles, so Spock could feel every dance of muscle and flesh as McCoy arched back against is fingers. 

“Spock...” McCoy breathed, the first word to pass between them for a long while and if the darkening glint in Spock's eye meant anything then it was pride at the word having been his name. It was meant to hurry the vulcan, to get him to do something more, but if anything Spock seemed to settle more firmly back into the bed. 

“I want to take you like this.” Hearing Spock speak like that shouldn't have made McCoy shudder, but it did. Whatever clinical, correct speech Spock wanted to use could never do justice to the hunger in his eyes that McCoy found he liked far too much. 

McCoy scoffed. “You want me to ride you like a rodeo, huh?” He snorted at Spock's raised eyebrow and then wondered if fetching his ten-gallon hat to complete the look would be a joke that Spock would just not at all understand. It didn't seem like Spock was inclined to let him go anywhere though so McCoy settled for the amusing image. 

The hand that had made a home under McCoy's vest retreated, guiding McCoy's sleeping pants off one leg as he didn't want to have McCoy move from over him or remove his fingers from where they were spreading McCoy open. Once one leg was free to was simple to let them fall from his other leg, naked from the waist down as Spock started thrusting his fingers a little deeper. McCoy grasped hold of the discarded tube of lube, breath hitching with every teasing, knowing brush against his prostate. He shuddered and squeezed too much into his hand, Spock's smug expression making McCoy grip Spock's trousers all the quicker to grip the vulcan's cock. Spock's concentration faltered a fraction, enough for McCoy to feel he had the upper hand for at least a moment, before Spock's other hand reached down and hooked a thumb into McCoy's hole as well, tugging him wider on each push of fingers as McCoy fought back with a tighter grip of his hand. He twisted his wrist on each upward stroke, let the lube coat every inch of Spock's cock and down, to the balls still hidden from view by Spock's clothes. Their little game of seeing who could push the other further was concluded when Spock's fingers made McCoy arch and cry out loudly, free hand splaying on Spock's chest to keep him upright as his body shook. 

“Okay, okay, stop that.” McCoy choked out, hating and thankful when Spock's fingers obligingly slipped free from his body. He took a moment to still himself, ease his body back from how close Spock had driven him to the edge, and glared down at the vulcan's still so smug expression. 

Lifting himself up slightly, McCoy gripped Spock's cock and lowered himself down without preamble. He let out a soft noise, building in strength as he took Spock in with one smooth slide of flesh. Still fully clothed beneath him, if a little rumpled, Spock's hands cam to grip his bare hips, one hand pushing McCoy's vest up to bunch under his arms before it rested at his hip again. Spock's breathing was heavy and laboured now, no denying otherwise, and it was satisfying to have proof that Spock was affected by what was happening. He was so calm and collected, McCoy needed those little moments where he could see just how much Spock couldn't keep that tight control around him. 

He did seem perfectly content to let McCoy do as he pleased, however, fingers firm but just holding at his hips as McCoy rocked his hips in a figure of eight. He was loathe to lose the weight and stretch of Spock's cock within him just yet, feeling every ridge and bump of flesh within him as he started to lift up just a little before sliding down again. 

McCoy built a slow rhythm until he was rising up on shaking thighs and sliding down the length of Spock's cock, hot hands guiding his motions until there was the sudden, sharp slap of skin on skin as Spock thrust upwards to meet him. The cool, observational façade was gone, cracked and discarded in favour of the harsh, slick slap of their bodies and tight hands on his skin. The dark circles of Spock's eyes were consuming, a little curl to his lips that gave McCoy a glimpse at the tightly contained emotions the vulcan contained. It was only after McCoy's own sharp cries dimmed into gasping, encouraging moans that he registered that Spock was speaking. It was low, half muttered beneath intakes of breath, but McCoy could hear it in the quiet of their bedroom between gasping breaths. It was slurred, bitten out words with the over arching theme of 'mine' and McCoy wanted to laugh at that, wanted to shake his head at the notion that he belonged to anyone. 

Then a too hot hand closed around his cock and his hips stuttered forward, pulled back onto Spock's cock with another firm hand and then McCoy was rocking back and forth, like he couldn't choose one and instead demanded both. Spock was happy to give, however, and McCoy's hands fisted in Spock's black long sleeved shirt before he was coming all over it and painting it white with his release. His head was thrown back and he cried out, clenching around Spock's cock with a drawn out groan of Spock's name as the vulcan fucked him through his orgasm until he was over sensitised and shaking on each thrust, two hands tight around his hips as Spock thrust up sharply and came. 

It was always a picture, watching Spock come. The normally stoic face became a vibrant expression of bliss and ecstasy that McCoy craved seeing, watching the calm fall away so utterly as to be forgotten for a precious few moments as Spock just fell apart. McCoy wasn't a poetry minded man, not in actually having the ability to write any nor the inclination to try, but that... that was damn good. 

McCoy lifted up a little, hissing as Spock slipped free from his body and flushing a little at the feel of slick, wet come trickling out. He slumped over in the crook of Spock's arm, much like how they had lain in the bed before, and he grinned a little dazedly at the vulcan. “'Yours', huh?” 

Spock stiffened and McCoy chuckled at the distinct sheepish and embarrassed look the vulcan adopted. “... I was under the impression we were in an committed relationship.”

“And that makes me yours, does it?” 

“... Yes. And I am yours as well.” Spock added, like that made the whole thing perfectly acceptable, which, McCoy thought, it sort of did. 

He chuckled and curled in tighter around Spock, memories of colder hands and leering faces all chased away by warm hands and soft words. 

The next morning Kirk found them in the mess hall and complained that it was no fun if they just snuck off to have sex when they promised him they'd come out for a drink. McCoy rolled his eyes but didn't respond as Kirk went on to say that an Orion couple had been arrested at the bar last night, something about her using a drug to enhance her appeal and she pissed off the wrong person on whom her appeal would not work. McCoy looked up at Spock, distinctly aware that there were a good few hours of the night he was passed out on their bed, but Spock simply looked impassively at his food and commented that it was reprehensible for someone to take advantage of others like that. 

McCoy smiled into his breakfast and brushed his fingers against Spock's on the table.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: http://akaiba.tumblr.com/


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